


Queen of Chicago, Knight of Chicago

by peoriapeoria



Series: Becoming Queen [1]
Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Sidhe Suck, Unforeseen Moves Required
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 15:13:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peoriapeoria/pseuds/peoriapeoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Marcone should have been more worried about being a lesser of evils.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Harry Dresden walked into my office and plopped into a chair, sitting so belligerently I wondered if he'd regressed to being a teen.

"The investiture is coming up."

Ah, Dresden got cranky when his godmother got involved, and as a lady in waiting of the Winter Court she was 'involved' when it came to the wyldefae and their Queen. Me. It had been surreal, with their powerpoint, spreadsheets and other accouterments of business, dressed in their interpretation of professional clothing. "Thank you, I might have forgotten." He looked at me intently. "Mr. Dresden, is there something else?"

"You'll need a Knight." I was aware of this, and I almost said so. "Your Knight can't be a mundane." That hadn't been mentioned. "Your Knight needs to be a denizen of your barony." I waited for the punchline; the wyldefae were rather attached to Harry. "You'llhavetohavesexwithyourknightunderopensky."

The announcement took me by surprise, once I deciphered it from Dresden's delivery, less because of the content since I had been treating with matters magical awhile now, and more that Harry was even here. "Mr. Dresden, I was almost thinking you were angling for the position." At that moment it was fortunate for me that it took more than a look to kill (and for Harry as well since he'd never have proven magic wasn't involved), though he'd attained my grandmother's level. I don't make that comparison lightly.

"Who were you going to choose?"

"Moot as there was a restriction that hadn't been mentioned." It was then that I realized that despite his clear distaste, he still expected to be Chicago's Knight. "No."

"You have to take a Knight to become Queen."

I had been operating as a 'will be Queen' without the theatrics. I considered what things would be affected.

"You can't back out, they're depending on you."

It took no powers of imagination to reckon just what would happen to my subjects without the protection of my court; my new subjects that was, many of whom were part of the Za Guard. As Baron I had no jurisdiction over fae, only a Queen could offer them the succor versus Winter and Summer. "I will not rape you."

That startled Harry. I had a sinking sensation as I comprehended it wasn't the surprise of someone that never thought they were a potential victim. "Only if you are willing will I make you my Knight." He blinked. It was disturbing, that of everything I'd seen him do and experience that was what brought him up short. I kissed him and pulled away, stepping back out of arms' reach.

He touched his lips. "What was that for?"

"Something for you to think about. I have matters to attend to, if you could see yourself out that would assist." It wasn't exactly fair, but I hadn't gotten here without being a monster. He wouldn't back down, Dresden didn't no matter the cost. Neither did I, and I was wrenching this from the utter trainwreck it otherwise would be.

 _A rooftop_  
I watched Harry take in the arrangements I'd made. There was the leather-topped desk that I'd seized after toppling Vargassi--he'd bragged about its prior owners, but I'd never installed it in an office. Which was not to say I'd not used it--I'd signed more things on it than I suspect Vargassi ever did. There was an area to clean up in and a separate comfort station. I stood from my chair and went to him.

"Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden, would you be my Knight?"

"Gentleman Johnny Marcone, Baron of Chicago, would you be Queen?"

I put out my right hand and he gave me his left, encased in the leather glove. I cupped his head in my left. This time there was no kiss. I didn't ask him to trust me. I stepped back, letting his hand drop. "Take off your coat and shirt." He threw the first onto my chair. I hid my amusement, expecting he'd take it ill-intended. Dresden was much slower with his shirt buttons. The pale ribbon of flesh revealed by the edges of the dark shirt was too tempting so I stepped back in to touch. The years may not have been kind to Harry, but he had put on muscle since Tommy's murder. I approved.

"John?"

"You're very appealing." He didn't squirm away, but I could just about smell his gears burning oil; he hadn't thought attraction would have a part in this.

"I'm a man." He said it with, not a squeak but he did come up into a tenor's falsetto.

"Yes, Harry." I rubbed my face towards his arms while I pulled his shirt tails from his jeans. He drew his arms from the sleeves and dropped it.

"Your turn."

I smiled, more than willing for him to approach this as a double dog dare. I didn't think he'd take well any sort of strip tease, so I went with efficiency. I think he smiled a little at the A shirt. It disappeared quickly. I stepped back in, touching and licking. I'd missed this, I'd thought about this--having a man, having Harry. Neither had been advisable, so I hadn't indulged, hadn't more than hinted (very broadly over the years, Harry inspires risky behavior in me) that it was on the table. Desk.

He wasn't with the program, I could feel the lack of arousal not pressing against me. I did the only sensible thing given the situation and went to my knees, popping his jeans open on the way down.

"Bells!"

I couldn't get too distracted here, but Harry's responsiveness was intoxicating. I braced him against the desk, and I'll admit there was an extra jolt sucking cock there knowing how much it would have infuriated Vargassi. And Marco, who'd destroyed the empire by judging me competition. I took off my trousers and then Dresden's jeans, pressing him to sprawl back down on the leather top, covering him. I slid back, onto him before the pleasure haze left him. I would have to pace myself or this would be over embarrassingly fast.

"John?" 

His eyes were so big, and he had no clue what to do with his hands. "Touch yourself." Instead he traced my mouth with his fingers. I sucked them in, thrusting down and rising up just a bit off my preferences. I expected confusion was trumping lust with Harry, which for the moment was working well.

It felt like a swarm of bees in my bloodstream, or maybe that was sound. It wasn't orgasm, and I looked Harry in the eyes. Magic. I bent to our fuck, shoving down on him, no longer giving a shit about endurance, decorum, the fae or much of anything at all. I wanted to come, I wanted Harry to come, I wanted to do it over and over, in a bed, against a wall, every impossible thing.

We didn't. I had never felt like this, balanced on knifepoint and slow burn all at once. The lube shouldn't be able to withstand this drawn out rut, yet I wasn't so out of practice to mistake anything else for the easy glide. He was touching me, his outsized hands sweeping over me, fingers tracing arcs and other figures along my skin. There was too much pleasure, too intense, too insistent, too insane. Then all that paled.

I came back to myself, blood burning in a familiar though long forgotten way. I so was not a teenager any more. Now I kissed him. We needed to get cleaned up. I lost myself in his mouth. I was on my back and all was well, Harry was slow fucking me and I could feel the magic building again. Still. Indescribable. It should have hurt, that much delay, yet it did not. It bloomed, our orgasm. This time, after, I did pull us away; I was full of spunk and he'd been coated in mine.

"Harry?" I'd gotten us cleaned up and I wanted to lick him open. I couldn't possibly be this ready.

"Get on with it."

I... The words weren't just cold water.

"Head back in the game, John. Holding this much power is a strain."

Oh. "So--"

"Better bang me both ends, be completes."

I pressed a hand over his mouth. Harry was crass and in of itself I didn't mind. I suspected this was bluster and fear, and I wasn't rushing under those circumstances. "Only "no" and "please". I took my hand away and replaced it with my mouth. I ate his mouth and he ate me back. The magic was immanent, multiplying as it sloshed between us. He was likely correct, that I couldn't scruple taking him. I could at least insulate him in lust.

I went down on him, teasing, pulling out all the stops. Neither of us were limited to the normal refractory time of men our ages--though who really knew for wizards? He fell back onto his elbows, hard, and he started to buck. I controlled him, restrained him lightly. I'd want visitation rights, later. Drank him down greedily, moved my attentions away from oversensitive flesh. I got up and stretched out on the desk, nipping at his thighs. I moaned when he pressed his face against me, thought about his usual stubble. I resisted writhing by main will. He was maddening, haphazardly teasing with bony nudges. His tongue slipped out, met my skin. I clutched his legs in my restraint. He swiped a long lick, catching the head. A few more licks and a couple tentative shallow mouth arounds and I pumped over his face. Doing that on purpose with him on his knees--which of my chairs...

He had one of my balls in his mouth, his hot, wet, contrary mouth. He worried it exquisitely and then he swapped. He shorted me out, then blew me entire crawling over me. I was aware of Chicago. I could hear her. Traffic, playgrounds, freightyards, backrooms, diners, factory floors, people whispering love. My dirty dame, my windy city, she of the strong shoulders. I came again.

"Please."

Who would think Dresden could take direction? I could still feel Chicago. Harry was on his knees, lust-drunk and straining against pent up magic. I sucked on his vertebrae, I'd have to work on him eating more appropriate meals, and licked him.

"What?"

I kept swiping my tongue over his hole, taking joy in him dropping against the desk, knees unsteady.

"Please."

I opened the drawer on the desk where I'd stashed some lube. I prepped him a bit more quickly than I would have, because I expected he needed relief from the magic he contained. I sat down and pulled him astride, propping his arms against my shoulders. It wasn't an idea position but it'd have less baggage, I hoped. I pressed two fingers into him again. He didn't look me in the eye. I sucked on his neck and pulled my fingers out. "Bearing down helps."

He took me to the root. He took me to 15, kept me there, started moving. I was too aware of myself, of Harry, now at the detail of Chicago. I could feel Harry being fucked, not just feel fucking him. The magic was a roar now, like an open helicopter door.

We Soul-gazed when we met. It wasn't supposed to happen a second time. Maybe it was meant to; there was a lot more grey in Harry, not the stark white and black of that first look at what made him him. He was both stronger and more brittle, the rubble wall now had tenacious plants here and there. More chained up monsters, slavering, gnashing monsters--things he's fought and surmounted. Then I was outside him, out of his soul, we felt like one body and I took us to 30.

We were separate again, intertwined but two, Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden, Chicago's Knight sprawled limp over me. We reeked of sex, sweat, black powder and powerful incense. Leather and wood rounded out the notes. He started to move.

"Don't rush." I held him and moved to ease out of Harry. I pressed down on his arm and got up, knocked back some mouthwash and wiped my face, cleaned my cock, spit and returned to tend to Harry. I got out and popped a Sen-sen.

He pushed at me, thrashing his way up, noticeably after he wouldn't embarrass himself. I kissed him closemouthed. He looked at me confused, and I wondered if he hadn't seen into me a second time. "Why don't you wash up, have something to eat?"

Harry did wash up, though I wished I'd not been so considerate when I specified the opaque shower walls. Or that they go up to seven feet. I wanted to give him a foot rub. I glanced back at the desk as he came out and grabbed a towel. It, I wondered if other people would register it, would tingle to its power. It would need an office, a real office, a private one. One with a door that could take a dramatic entrance and a wall to withstand the door. An office with a speaking tube and kerosene lamps.

Harry was dressed, leaving.

"You didn't eat."

He made a showy magician's gesture and displayed an apple. Then bit it and strode out.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm the Knight of Chicago. Chicago, Barony and Third Fae Court. We had changed the course not of history but of destiny. Myth, Legend. That was the royal we, Marcone's we. It took stones to sup at the Queen's banquet as an equal.

I was intimately acquainted with those stones. I bit down on the remains of my apple and crisped the core. It didn't do to leave saliva or blood lying around. I let the flakes fall into the wind. I hadn't had a choice, once he'd accepted the wyldefae's petition.

Okay, I could have let the Queens of Winter and Summer rage over the wyldefae. Chicago would survive with a Baron, it had the protections of a freehold signatory. The wyldefae couldn't pledge to a mere mortal, not against the call of a Sidhe lord.

John Marcone made me Chicago's Knight and I made him her Queen. Where the hell had he gotten that desk? I've been in a lot of his offices, and that desk wasn't like anything I'd ever seen. It looked like a set piece from some drama of presidential excess. Marilyn Monroe and Rita Hayworth could hide in the kneehole.

I ordered a Whopper, fished out the change and looked around the Burger King. I knew all the exits. I took my food and left. I unwrapped it, reduced the wrapper into constituent molecules, bit into my burger. I had magic to burn.

That was an understatement. Chicago sat on a confluent of ley lines and I'd been wired into them by Marcone, who I'd granted them back when I started the whole matter of him becoming Baron. My Za Guard, who I'd never expected when I called on Toot, had been instrumental in the petition. I'd fucked myself. Royally.

Afterwards I hadn't felt like driving, so I walked my Chicago. Given the Blue Beetle and my magic, walking was likely faster. It hadn't been like I'd expected. I wonder if that's how he got the Gentleman moniker, though I didn't think 'Gentlemen Prefer Wizards' would ever make box office. I hadn't expected pitching. Thinking about Marcone that way scrambled my brain. I thought of other ways, other desks. Walls, beds, barns.

I had been straight. I could still smell him, taste his texture. Feel his fingers, his tongue, other things. I'd thought Marcone was straight. He'd wanted me. Not just my magic, not just my allegiance. He wanted me. He had me.

It was done. Chicago had both Baron and Queen, Gentleman Johnny Marcone. I'm Chicago's Knight.


End file.
